


What a sight to see

by s_t_c_s



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Kids No Families, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Beth's canonical money kink, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dark, F/M, I mean necessarily generally, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Murder, No Dean!, Oral Sex, POV Rio (Good Girls), Rio's canonical neck/throat kink, Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vampires, but it doesn't serrrrrrriously fork till around 204, but nothing - like - super gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21630082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_t_c_s/pseuds/s_t_c_s
Summary: No kids no families Vampire AU. Sorta follows the course of the show (but with some notable differences... much more happens under cover of darkness; Beth doesn't have a stupid husband etc) to start with.Rio's POV.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 29
Kudos: 400





	What a sight to see

**Author's Note:**

> Vampire AU, so there's blood and violence and death. I don't think there's anything super duper gory etc, but if any of that's a no for you then you probably want to skip this story.

It ain’t like he don't figure her for bizarrer than a crate of axolotls, pretty much from the _jump_.

And, all right, her looks might be the very first thing to strike – partially cos she's nowhere close to what Rio was imagining when he found he'd been robbed. Those giant eyes, her voluptuous lips, how that body crooks and quirks, filling her clothes with a real _precise_ formula. His breath isn’t snatched off, nothing so dramatic, Rio's well past a thoroughly bewitchable horny teen after all. But, like, he _notices_ – that don't seem avoidable; he is only human.

Rio clocks just how pale she is in those same first glimpses, gets a nice opportunity to observe his thief, with how she blearily stumbles up from the basement only to startle over him perched on her kitchen counter. Elizabeth's skin's the colour of sun-bleached bones, shines similar to the positive space of sun-filled sky-patches in his old family photos.

He learns a bunch of stuff about her, in fairly quick succession. Their association has a habit of accelerating, tipping a jumbled pile of information and intuitions straight into his lap. And Rio’s confident he has a bead on it all, on her, only– Only it don't completely hang together right. Cos Elizabeth is _not_ suitably scared of him, or guns, or, possibly, anything in the whole wide world. He ain't particularly impressed with her attempts at _pretending_ to be neither.

Could be she don't know enough to get that fear. On occasions Rio catches the disturbing notion that she sees something in him that makes her trust him. But she's wrong, if that is the case. She don't _know_ him – he's vicious, no monster with a heart of gold or whatever. Elizabeth has some weird almost obsession with the concept of honour, maybe harbours a mistaken belief that he's the same. She's almost as insistent as he is that she gotta pay him back once he's spelt it out to her – it's odd, but for sure nothing to complain on. 

Elizabeth's creative, Rio discovers that early. And apparently she possesses some capacity for intimidating folks, though that part sounds pretty foreign to his conception of her when he hears of it. He sent her to collect shit from Mike, up in Canada, in exchange for her remaining debt. But she don't do it the regular way. Which he only finds out about cos Mike calls him, straight blathering 'bout her popping up on him outta nowhere in the dead of night. The story's garbled, mixed through with some nonsensical babbles as to what she did to Mike's foot. It don't make _no_ sense.

When Rio pushes, asks the big guy if he's spinning an elaborate joke, Mike backtracks hard. Apparently he thinks it's better not to dwell on it after all. Even swears he wishes Elizabeth well in a forced-cheery tone, before hanging up. Mike honestly sounded not far off a reverent 'm'lady' or some shit. But the dude's always had a bit of a drinking problem, has made insistent claims about yetis and whatnot – not the most reliable witness ever, so.

And, whatever, Elizabeth sure does deliver. She drops the paper at the busy warehouse – yeah, okay, maybe he did wanna show off a _little_ – as promised. He toys with, well, toying with her; her steaming responses are too fucking fun. But Rio does wipe her slate clear, enjoys watching her ass wander out his life.

But then she leaves him those pearls – they glimmer like a string of moons; like her. When he goes round to see Elizabeth, and what it is she wants, Rio's experiencing a spread of sensations – but intimidated sure ain't one.

*

It's a kinda similar story to Mike, the one with Eddie. Elizabeth's strange calling card was apparently a plea for further jobs. Maybe there was a perverse thrill to presenting her with one so unexpected. She's deeply insistent, looks vaguely unwell even, that she can't care for the bloodied and wounded when she gets Rio to the gloom of her back yard. He can't help but grin when he's portioning out stacks of bills, watching her eyes grow and grow.

"More," Elizabeth says, greedy as she always sounds.

He should say no, stomp his foot, show his steel. But she's deliciously desperate, and it's amusing as anything – her nonsensical negotiations, so Rio chucks down another pile.

Eddie's back, all fixed up, earlier than predicted. The joys of youth, must be. And Eddie won't say peep fucking one 'bout how Elizabeth treated him, or much at all on the subject of her when asked. But Eddie always was a mama's boy, and Elizabeth's got access to an authoritative pitch that someone milder might buy into. Plus them forceful tits Rio can't blame a man, specially not one close to a boy, for falling under the spell of. It's not something Rio considers worth paying too much mind.

And when Elizabeth (having filched his number from Eddie's phone earlier – she's resourceful, Rio's gotta give her that too) brings him her plan to wash his cash Rio thinks: _what the hell_. Why not trial it, yeah. It ain't a bad set up. They're at a cocktail bar (her choice) when she suggests it, and once again her proposition's not quite what he expected under the circumstances. Though it don't make it unwelcome, not by a long shot. And if Rio's enjoying the sight of her in that tight black dress, looking good enough to feast on, while she sells him on her details… well, he don't know there's any harm to it.

*

They always seem to be meeting at night – just like that first time in her house. Elizabeth near glows in the dark, and maybe that's what distracts him enough into ignoring his better judgement over her. Rio's always loved the witching hours, since childhood, that's when he's most energised. And her slightly odd penchant for meeting times ain't exactly inconvenient for his life style, so he has no need to kick a fuss 'bout it.

It's that glitzy bar again, he's grown a fondness for it, where she whinges 'bout her run-in with some fed. This time the dress is red and silken. Rio yearns to reach out and touch it. Maybe rip it to shreds. He concedes to the desire to tease instead – though it's not _only_ playing pretend. Fed wants to know what Rio's been doing, coming in and out of her place at night. Trysts ain't implausible, surely. Plus – what a pretty picture that paints. He thinks Elizabeth might agree, with the way her lashes falter then pause, that slow, disbelieving smile, when he suggests it.

That's what leads to him saying, "Maybe I oughta stay longer next time, really sell it."

She shrugs, but that's enforced ease, he can spot it easy. "What if I just finish fast." The front teeth of Elizabeth’s bottom row pop out, briefly press against her lip, but fade back away without truly biting.

It's not merely pride that gets Rio replying with, " _I_ wouldn't."

He's tempted to – well, there's an awful lot he's tempted to. But there's alarm bells ringing along the back of his cranium, goosebumps across his exposed forearms are trying to whisper long forgotten warnings. So he don’t prevent Elizabeth when she leaves, reluctance burning heavy in his gut.

She keeps asking for more, always pressing for so much more. It's sorta intoxicating, he can't recall seeing this naked, channelled, hunger – not upon anyone but himself.

It's almost a shame when he has to put her in her place, finding his funny money mixed in amongst the clean. But it's likely for the best, a requisite reminder, ain't nobody perfect. When Rio finds her, she's twiddling a necklace, looking down at it considering, squinting against the awkward angle. It does register as a lil strange, that Elizabeth hasn't found a mirror to gaze in. But her place is furnished quite, quite madly, and he really ain't got time to take her by the hand and lead her through the basics of interior decorating.

Elizabeth's bland floral prints and clunky knick-knacks are – they're objectively terrible. An image so absurd that it makes him wanna laugh, despite his current attitude and the vengeance screeching through his veins, stabs its way to his mind. The two of them in a department store or some shit, Rio shepherding her; lecturing on aesthetics. It's kinda hard to envisage her in the bright lights of that typa setting, he ain't sure it'd suit her – fluorescence would surely wash her complexion right out.

He's able to wipe that diverting thought off easy enough, but the others ain't so shakeable. Cos, god, he's always had a bit of a thing for a well-shaped neck anyway, and the way she's tilting her chest to view the pendant is– These ain't distractions he needs, not now. Rio's grateful for the presence of his boys, unsure of how it mighta turned without them. Especially when Elizabeth's holding his gaze steady and calm and very much not trembling, one of his hands pulling rough enough at her hair, the other pressed to his gun as it fondles a path around her breasts.

That's how Rio finds out 'bout her secret shopper scam, though she refuses to supply him with the identity of the culprit. That part's annoying, but it's pleasing to find Elizabeth weren't tryna cheat him. She possesses some noble notions, which mostly seem like horseshit to him. But if he's entrusting stuff to her, it's nice to be able to believe in her loyalty. Even if the full extent of how unafraid she is, and how poor at acting that damn part, is – it's staggering, really.

Elizabeth still won't fork over a name when they're out by the train tracks. But he insists she's gotta handle it, and she nods so serious. By the next time Rio sees her, he's almost certain she has – there's the air of a fresh kill about her. He should know it. He ain't convinced it's her first neither, not with the way Elizabeth wears it, though that hardly seems to fit what he knows of her. That's when the needling insistences that he musta got something wrong gather some strength.

Elizabeth meets him at his favourite diner during the shut down, a coupla times. She never eats dinner with him though. He hopes she's not on one of those insane starvation diets. Pretty much every woman Rio's ever known has been messed up in at least some small way over the topic of food, but c'mon. Elizabeth must know she's gorgeous, got a body to die for, hasta clock how every head turns for her.

She tries to fence him some damn botox, of all things, and it ain't a line when he tells her she don't need it. If Rio had to place her reaction on a scale from unperturbed to its total opposite, he'd be forced to pin both extremes at once. Fucking hell man, he's not sure he ever met anyone weirder.

But then. Then it all goes pear-fucking-shaped. Elizabeth nestles so far up into her feelings over him dangling her as cop-bait, in a carefully constructed plot that don't put her even a mile close to danger nor evidenced illegality, that she's huffing and puffing and chucking projectiles. That way she stares at him, at that spot on his face that was cut by the keys she launched, is. It's borderline psychopathic. She looks fucking _hungry_. For what he don't know, but it couldn't be clearer it ain't for forming apologies.

And fucking. He really ain't got time for this shit! There's feds and flipped kids and all manner to be dealt with. And he musta made a wrong turn somewhere, assumed incorrect, cos this bitch hasn't got a shred of respect for him. Even if, or maybe especially cos, he don't appreciate that scrunch to her face – like a used napkin, or strewn off duvet cover – this needs _done_. So Rio sends her away. There's a lengthy moment where he thinks she ain't gonna go, might demand a do-over or some shit, so he fucks off outta the conversation. That ain't a defeat, he's not running away. It's leadership – forcing a stop, honouring one's own demand.

Turns out Elizabeth's got her own thoughts on those kinda topics though. When she flips on him it's side-blinding. A much needed reality check, probably.

All those odds and ends hadn't coalesced into a full portrait. Not till Rio goes to find her, to punish her for tryna turn on him, or whatever. She comes when he calls to her from her dining room table. When her eyes catch on his gun Elizabeth only tips her head back to laugh and laugh. Christ, there's not being afraid enough and then there's – whatever the fuck this is. Mania? Angel dust? Daddy issues way off the fucking chart?

But then them fangs pop out her mouth. And once he ascertains as well as he can that he's not hallucinating, not capitulating to a trick of the light, it all does start to slot into place.

Rio muses briefly. By about the third second he's placing his gun, safety secured, down on the table. He can't fathom it'll be much use in this scenario.

"This a recent development?" he queries, gesturing in a general mouth-wards fashion.

"Depends on your timescales." Elizabeth’s grin is – it's certainly toothy.

And god. There's always been something, hasn't there. Her voice, or vocabulary – even her face. A truly timeless quality.

"Not happened since we met, then?"

" _God_ no."

That's – Rio's pretty sure that's a positive.

Elizabeth reaches idly for the gun, before easily bending and snapping it clean in two without apparent effort.

There's a short span when all Rio hears is white noise. But then his brain's back to ticking along, a largely unstoppable force. Cos she ain't moving to hurt him, never has really – least not without a pinch of provocation. And if he considered her an asset before, well _damn_. The raw, unexpected, power of her – it's impressive. Dazzling.

The idea of keeping Elizabeth in position, to her rank, starts to flee, or at least significantly shift. And with that change, the realisation of just how much he's been wanting her – still does if he's honest, and ain't _that_ just fucked – strikes. Rio's never been so turned on, yet so terrified off the vaguest prospect of a blowjob, at the same fucking time.

She's sauntered too close, and Rio wants to stumble back but, jesus, she's got a godforsaken _worried_ face on. With a horribly instinctual move, he chucks her chin, tucks back a strand of her hair. Elizabeth leans into it, drizzle light.

There's more than one idea pulling at him, but. He ain't _un_ shaken. And if recent events haven't been yelling at him to utilise his freaking smarts, he dunno what in hell could.

So he simply collects himself, doesn't bother reaching for the remains of his once trusty weapon, and says, "I'll see you real soon, yeah?"

Elizabeth don't conjure up any argument. They're good, he's gotta assume.

*

When he finds out 'bout that dumbass grocery store manager cosying up to the feds, it's _logical_ to bring it to Elizabeth. She did rob that store, after all. And Rio reckons she must have a knack for disappearing problems of that fool's ilk. She ain't got much against the scheme, not if her smile's anything to go by.

Elizabeth pops up in their bar – he wasn't waiting for her, but also wasn't _not_ – Rio spots her the second she wanders in. She's dressed more casual than her usual, a burgundy number with some appealing give to it, and twiddling one of her waves; a curious ruddiness stains her cheeks. Rio shifts restlessly, impatient.

  
When Elizabeth slides next to him, she don't bother to lower her voice in the slightest to announce, "He tasted _awful_."

Anyone listening would probably assume Rio's her fucking _pimp_. And, god, it's stupid. How much he wants to belly laugh. But. He always did love subterfuge, spent hours as a kid playing spy.

Rio gestures to the bartender, and he don't know why Elizabeth's so god damn surprised he knows her drink. As if there's a single thing 'bout her that's in the vicinity of forgettable.

Once the bourbon’s disappeared down her, she says, clear and deliberate, "I'm going to the bathroom."

Her eyes linger on his face; his head inclines. He's almost tempted to ask if she even does – that. But that surely wouldn't be polite. And then he goes to check on her, cos he's into his manners tonight. The door ain't locked, and there's a scrap of him that'd like to believe he's been charmed or glamoured or whatever, but _nah_. Rio's rarely been as certain of anything in his life.

Elizabeth's facing the turbulently messed mirror when he slips on in, and that's not a silhouette, a view, he'd tire of easy. But then she's turning, and that's even better. Especially when her face weaves devastatingly near to his, close as conviction. He's so definite she's gonna kiss him – finally – that Elizabeth moving over to lock the door he apparently hasn't bothered to attend to, good _god_ , then simply turning her back to him again, it's something of a sucker punch.

The inviting lift of her skirt, though, that's more of a revelation. All that pallid, pliant flesh; displayed for him. Rio can't _not_ stride forward, grasp the opportunity – as well as her thigh. A baying part of him kinda wants to grab and twist her jaw, _make_ her kiss him. It ain't an impulse he's used to feeling with women – but then she's not quite that, is she. He knows he can’t overpower her, obviously, but that don't mean he wouldn't get Elizabeth to fold. But surely she's earned the right to play tonight however she desires. And he's well-versed in the delights of delayed gratification.

So he sticks to ripping away her morsel of underwear. And anyway, there's a real fascinating air to fondling Elizabeth’s breasts or mouthing at her neck, mmm, in front of a mirror – only seeing himself reflected back. That sticks, as he swipes at her, presses his fingers where she's deeply drenched. And _cold_ , it's kinda crazy. Or he is. Or. Whatever.

But it starts to lean a lil gimmicky once Rio’s pushed her further over the sink, as well as unfair. She's had a tight view of his echoing face, he wants to _see_ her. God, ain't he always hankering for her ethereal features; them loaded reactions. So he removes his hand, is pleased by her hissed response, to drag her round. Elizabeth looks – not annoyed, yet. But like she might react badly to any asinine words. Rio hauls her up easy, and her lightness prods at his fervent brain – tendrils whisper 'bout force and mass and _science_. But, right. Supernatural creature. The pounding paranoid logician part don't gotta rise, it ain't a trap. Or if it is, it's one he's tumbling straight for, willing.

So he pushes her against the wall, keeping her close in his arms. Rio stymies the boy scout inclination to reach into his wallet in his back pocket – reckoning, duh, protection don't exactly seem relevant. He forces his jeans open one-handed, pushes 'em and his underwear down _enough_ , so he can bury himself rewardingly deep inside her. Elizabeth groans so hard that he's close to contrite a sec – worried he mighta gone too fast. But then her hips quiver against his over and over, she's gluttonous as ever. And – oh. Yeah. She's about as far from fragile as they come. So Rio throws himself right to it, fucking her hard but paced, letting his hands twine up and up.

How he loses himself by Elizabeth’s carotid ain't cos of her – or rather it is, but not _what_ she is. He needs her scent, that florid taste on his lips. And, lord, maybe he ain't full ready for her to see what this – what she – is to him. She leans into him in a similar fashion some too. He anticipates a scrape against his skin but none's forthcoming and that's. Relieving. Or should be. She's so much _warmer_ now – friction, or the access to his heat, winging its magic. And the way she clenches round him courses agonising pleasure his way. His orgasm chases Elizabeth's.

When they're finished, and he's helped her back to solid ground, Rio don't make himself resist the urge to return his fingers _there_ , pushing his come back around, revelling in her dripping nectar. They oughta speed really, a line has to have formed outside. But. She's unspooled in a way he ain't see her previous – could surely form a habit of catching. He grabs her hands to manoeuvre her, encourages her up onto that grimy sink so he can drop his head between her thighs. Rio licks at both their remains, kisses her cunt quick, then _real_ slow. It ain't long till Elizabeth’s gripping his head double-handed, coming against his dedicated mouth. And, god, he did rip her ridiculous lil panties; came deep inside her. But even if that was partially also a clean up mission, fuck if it weren't for his enjoyment just as much as hers.

When they do eventually make it out the bathroom, there's a coupla unimpressed people, as predicted. That might not be the only reason he slings an arm round her waist walking past ‘em. Rio don't possess the stupid illusion she needs his protection, but that don't mean she ain't got a use for his support. Elizabeth’s arm brushes against his ass, her mouth blooms wide.

It emboldens him to ask, once they're back near the bar, still wrapped up in each other, "Gonna let me do that again?"

Fuck, no matter how keen he was, that ain't the kinda thing Rio'd ever usually say.

Elizabeth runs a thumb very deliberately over his throat. It's the first time in way over a decade he don't attribute the bulk of that fascination to the tattoo there.

"Will you let me?" she returns.

He can't see even a fraction of a point to not nodding along. Rio don't want it locked away, secret.

"Can I take you home," he says. It's not a question.

Her expression caves slightly, and it irritates him. She's gotta have had chances to gain plenty of wisdom, oughta be capable of picking up on subtler hints.

Rio's eyes roll when he spells it out for her, " _Mine_ , yeah?"

*

And on it tumbles from there. Once. Twice. More. It's always more with Elizabeth. And Rio's just – casually sleeping with a vampire. Only she ain't exactly the easy breezy type. It's not that she's possessive or pouty, nothing in that realm. But Elizabeth is all-encompassing, stuffs his senses worse than a bad cold and – and, shit, maybe that says more about him than her. There ain't much downside to it anyway, except the prickling concern that it's too ideal, that this – she – might get snatched from him somehow.

His mama always told him he shouldn't waste so much time watching movies. There's cinematic images burnt into the backs of his eyelids; he can sketch her into them too easily. Elizabeth disintegrating into a flash of ash, her skin singed with the shape of a cross before she fades, sunlight ripping her apart.

Their – work – partnership firms up, sturdy and organic. Elizabeth's got a skill for talking people into enacting her whims, one that's rather different to his – charms. Soon they're running money through all kinda strange places. And Rio's taking her along to, well, a lot. It's not primarily for protection, though it really don't hurt – how meek she appears if you can't pay proper attention, combined with how impervious she rolls. It's handy her understanding the whole picture. Rio plays it like she's his protege, starts snapping bones if anyone mouths off over it. He won't let her lay a finger – or tooth – on anyone if there's an audience present. It can't be wise to tip anyone to their advantage, though it seems unlikely any of his regular contacts could put two and two together – not to come up with bloodsucker anyway.

But careful rigour ain't steered him wrong before. And it can't be beyond plausibility that there's a seedy underbelly to, well, the seedy underbelly. Could be that couple that've been sorting his guns these last few months truly are wizards. And Rio's heard madder things than the possibility of Big Mike being a werewolf or similar, all things considered.

*

It's after a howling argument, when it happens. He truly weren't tryna encroach. It's just – she's always fretting over cash, hoarding it as if she's actually a dragon. That's how she fell to robbing him in the first place, Rio reckons, though Elizabeth’s typically light on detail-supplying. And he can't empathise with her situation entirely, lacks the experiential pains of a _real_ long life. He wasn't meaning to overstep, what she thought he was implying wasn't– Well, look, Rio _gets_ that she's dwelling upon different time periods to what he's used to, he does.

The make-up sex is batshit. Frenzied and desperate and. It's not a surprise when her teeth clamp over the base of his throat, Rio’s skin ripping as if the very stuff that holds him together is mere filo pastry. And he – _fuck_. He probably oughta be embarrassed over how fast he comes inside her. Elizabeth's careful, doesn't suck at his pulse point long, licks over the skin there after. Her saliva soothes, the puncture wounds tingle closed too soon, making him shudder all over again.

He gets her off with his fingers and tongue a few times in a row, once he’s breathing closer to normal. Elizabeth's forever – insatiable ain't quite the right word. But she can _take_ it. And Rio’s appetite for giving her that is greater than he ever fathomed.

So then that's just something else they do, in amid their mix. Her more-than-teeth delve through his layers, Rio’s blood drips into her mouth. She's gotta have some trippy reserves of control secreted away, cos even at her most lost, thoroughly gone, Elizabeth don't do it for serious lengths. Always treats him like a precious, brittle thing.

And he – he don't know what he wants, not exactly.

But then Rio fucks up, or something does. A drop goes bad, and they're not together. It's not wildly unusual for them to be split, though it ain't the kinda thing that happens on the daily. The meet was supposed to be routine, dull as dishes. But Rio ends up popped – three fucking times in the chest. He's mostly annoyed, incredulous these idiot goons got the drop on him. It's a hazard of the job, he shouldn't have been letting his mind wander, daydreaming of her. You mess up at this, you go to jail or you die. Shit, ain't like he got into this expecting to live forever.

He's glad when the fuckers startle off for some reason. Rio finds the wherewithal to call her at least. She's light-fast, his Elizabeth, he's seen her run quicker than belief so many times. His gym-honed body can't keep up. A lesser man might be threatened by it, but he loves to watch her blur. Fuck, he just loves watching her. He's aware her spit and tricks ain't likely to be enough to hold him together, not for long, but he needs to at least present her with a proper goodbye.

She's crying above him, cut too open, when he cracks his lids. And it's obvious he was right – is past saving. Rio's oddly calm. Or. Maybe it's numbness.

Her voice is a tentative whisper, or perhaps he just can't listen right. It sounds a lil like "I could...?"

"We'll both be so cold." He's smiling. He thinks he's smiling. He's– She's–

*

When he wakes he's cloudy and sharp and gnawingly unsatisfied. Rio catches sight of Elizabeth, smiles to her in this new, discomforting, way.

The worry is dripping from her, like beads of sweat, which she don’t form.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He don't understand.

"You're," she starts, before breaking off. "I wasn't sure if you– I made you." Elizabeth sighs huge. "You're like me."

God, does she think he's a moron? All right, he won’t ever properly appreciate a great steak dinner or nap in the sun again, but c'mon. There's more important concerns.

"You _saved_ me, darlin'."

Elizabeth snorts derisively. It makes Rio ravenously pissed. Hmm, everything's up to eleven, at the very fucking least. His snarls seem to calm her somehow. Shit, she always has been a weirdo, long as he's known her.

"I didn't think you wanted to be," she starts, "... cold." The landing is somewhat lame, the finishing gesture entirely lacklustre.

Rio beckons her to him, to the bed. "That a challenge to warm ourselves up?"

He knew she was always holding back for him, course he did. But not _how much_. Elizabeth fucks him with claws and teeth out, with despairing passion and frenetic abandon. The pace, the energy, bends his mind.

"I'm hungry," he tells her after.

"Yeah," Elizabeth says, "you will be."

He's got a feeling she means, like, in general. There's not all that much empathy in her tone, while there is a sizeable dose of mockery. But Elizabeth does drag him along to some next adventure, and frankly Rio don't ever need much more than the certainty of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Vampire by Black Uhuru (no apology for my towering levels of cheese!).
> 
> This was a little bit inspired by Neil Gaiman's short story 'Snow, Glass, Apples' which was, I assume, inspired by Angela Carter's, like, everything.


End file.
